


OOH, Mister Randall!

by wisenedthefuckup



Category: The Last of Us, Wanted: Dead or Alive
Genre: Complete and utter self-indulgent crack, Gen, M/M, Memes within memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisenedthefuckup/pseuds/wisenedthefuckup
Summary: In this parody of a parody of a meme, Bill has written self-insert fanfiction of himself and a traveling companion, Josh Randall. He was bored, and bitter that Josh refuses to button his shirt fully or roll down his sleeves when they are fighting infected.





	OOH, Mister Randall!

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses. I promise this wasn't what I meant when I said I would fill Bill's tag myself.

“Much obliged, Sheriff.” Josh tucked the wad of cash safely into his shirt, leaning over the desk to sign his name. Another outlaw wrangled, another bounty handed out. A relatively painless process, for once.  
     Dipping his hat to the lawman, he turned and walked smoothly from the office. He was tired, but not too tired...   
     His blue eyes shifted to the nearby hotel, and he quirked one of those smiles that just barely touched his dimples, changing course. His spurs jingled lightly, boots crunching in the dry, crumbly clay. He stomped the caked earth off before pushing through the doors, spared only a nod for the innkeeper as he trotted up the stairs, down the hall.  
  
“Bill!” The door burst open. Dramatic lighting framed Josh’s figure front and center as he leaned on the doorway, one hand on the top button of his shirt. His laugh lines stood out in harsh, but not unpleasant, definition. His cute little mole. His watchful blue eyes. “I am here now.”  
     Looking up from where he sat, nestled into the chaise lounge, Bill felt his heart flutter. His hands moved to his face, so moved was he by the way Josh’s eyes  _smoldered_ , how commanding he was leaning against that doorway, one leg kicked against the jam. Like he was ready to pounce.  
     “And I am looking so handsome,” Josh continued, tossing his gunbelt onto a chair as he stepped into the room. His foot swung out, fluidly closing the door.  
     “Oooh, Mister Randall!” Bill gushed, swooning. He watched, unable to look away, as Josh moved nearer.  
     The bounty hunter put his hands on his hips, puffing his chest, and the front of his shirt opened as though by a zipper. Cash fluttered delicately to the ground and an apple rolled away under the bed. "And also my shirt, opened?"  
     “Ooh!!” Bill’s heart pounded in his chest and he leaned back, enraptured by Josh’s rippling muscles, the way his ribs and chest lifted with his heavy breaths. And then he was on his feet. His arms wound around Josh’s neck, as though by their own accord, and he leaned back with a sigh of ecstasy.   
     Josh’s strong arms caught him before he could fall. He leaned over as Bill’s head fell back.  
     “Lets do  _it_!” Bill cried, feeling strong, safe in the arms of  _Mister Randall_.  
     “Yes.”   
     Their eyes met, gazing at each other from one another’s arms. Bill, weak, supported. Josh, firm, strong.  
     “And I will keep my cowboy hat  _on_ ,” Mister Randall promised.  
  
Meanwhile, within a twenty mile radius-  
     Down at the saloon, bodices ripped open, sproinging apart as they came undone. Women collapsed, caught in the throes of divine swooning. The barber fell in love, and into the arms of the patron who’s beard he was shaving. The grocer man’s hand touched that of the local deputy and electricity crackled through the air. Somewhere nearby, the ground shook as Bezi collapsed, even gayer than ever before.  
  
     It was amazing.  
  
     the end


End file.
